


A gipsy thing

by The_MoonBear



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_MoonBear/pseuds/The_MoonBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no way Roman will leave Peter alone this Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A gipsy thing

Roman was more excited about this Christmas than about any other Christmas he had ever had.

Ever since he had sold his share of Godfrey Industries he felt free from any concern and more positive about life in general, and as this new perspective allowed him not being so acid towards people he had made a considerable amount of friends during the past few months. And, being so disgustingly rich, he considered appropriated throwing a huge Christmas party that year.

That's why his mansion had been a constant hustle during the past few days. He had hired people to help him organize the space so he could offer comfort to his guests and still circulate and dance without a problem. Lights were being installed, the tree was being put together following Roman's specifications and the snacks were starting to be made. Everything was going great.

Roman's sixth sense more than the actual sound of the door bell let him know there was someone at the door, so he hurried to open hoping it would be his new stereo. He was disappointed of not seeing an UPS guy, but instead he was thrilled to see Peter standing there. The boy seemed a bit down, but his troubled face was replaced by a cheerful one as soon as he saw Roman. The upir greeted the piddling werewolf with a tender kiss on his lips and a soft caress on his wavy hair, which had grown a lot lately and was frankly delightful. Peter smiled against Roman's lips and squeezed the hand upon his hair.

"Hello to you too, babe", mocked Peter.

"Sorry, your face is the best news I had all day", replied the young man letting go of Peter's hair to pay attention to his lower back. "So, tell me, what do I owe your presence to? You changed your mind about helping me with the lights?"

"God no Roman, I have some dignity left", the boy said in turn with his habitual sarcasm, but turned serious immediately. He looked around, inspecting the 'crime scene' as he had called it a few days earlier right after seeing so many plastic bags around the floor. He had no particular interest in assisting to that party but Roman had asked him to go so he couldn't refuse. Just as what he was going to ask Roman now.

"Listen, uhm", he began avoiding Roman's eyes, "I know the big night is in two days and all but... I'd be cool if you came by tonight and hang out, you know, have a beer or something"

"And you came all the way only to ask me that? You could've called my and I'd had been there in two seconds, you moron", pointed out the taller boy with one of those angelic smiles of his. Peter almost smiled at that.

"It just... doesn't work like that", he mumbled staring at the floor.

"Oh", realized the upir in a low voice, "don't tell me, it's a gipsy thing. Do you guys even celebrate Christmas?"

"Sort of?", mumbled Peter again, nervously scratching his head. "Could you just... be there at, like, five?"

"Sure", agreed Roman with a face-wided smile o his face, kissing him again. "Should I bring something?"

"Well, I'm not the best cook..."

"Got it", he cut off, side eyeing the kitchen counters fully covered with snacks and dishes he was trying along with the cook. "I can bring some champagne, too"

"Perfect", Peter hurried to reply with a tense smile. "Alright then, I'll see you tonight. Now I'll stop interrupting your work and-"

The boy could not continue talking because he was interrupted by Roman's fleshy lips on his kissing him thoroughly, leaning his sinewy body on his boyfriend's small frame and pulling him closer. Peter found himself begging for air soon.

"What was that?", he demanded with a half crooked smile.

"Nothing", replied the other boy, imitating his tone. "I'll see you tonight"

"Yup", said Peter, so low that Roman wondered if it was a reply or he was talking to himself. He never got to ask him, the boy was already halfway to his car by then. Roman told himself that he would have the time to find out what was all the fuss for the Christmas about, but until then he had a lot to do.

"Hey Rosie", he adressed the plump cook, "you think you could put some of those canapes in a Tupperware for tonight, please? A bit of everything, actually?"

And even after several months, Roman was still surprised of seeing how willing and delighted the cook was to fulfill his request. It did work wonders being nice to people.

 

* * *

 

It was long after five thirty when Roman was parking his car at the top of the stairs that lead to Peter's precarious home, the old trailer he had shared with his mother until the both of them ran away. As he came down the steep steps he tried really hard not to think of how hopeless he had felt that afternoon so many months ago, when he had taken the same path and found the tiny square empty and abandoned, with the remains of Peter's unpronounced goodbye spread in every corner, screaming his absence. He tried, but as every time he returned there, something tiny and annoying inside his heart never stopped burning, fire and needles and the fear of finding the same scenario each time.

Roman breathed once he reached the door and saw that there was light inside and the sweet chocolate scent of the Turkish tobacco his boyfriend used to smoke floating amongst the tall pines. He entered without knocking, balancing on his hip everything he had not managed to put inside the bag he was carrying on his shoulder.

And then he realized that he had rushed in relaxing, because the scene happening in front of him was way too far from ideal.

Peter was crying curling on himself, elbows on his knees, his head heavily laying on his hands. He was holding one of the handmade cigarettes between two fingers, letting it consume slowly. Roman stepped inside the small living room and found a framed picture of Peter and Lynda broken in half, all the glass spread over the coffee table, and also pieces of another picture that portraited his cousin Destiny with his boyfriend. There were also several empty beer bottles and a half empty whisky bottle.

"Peter?", whispered Roman as he left everything carelessly on the floor and sat besides Peter on the couch still covered with the white blanket the boy never bothered to remove.

The boy raised his face from his hands, but still avoided Roman's stare. He didn't need to look to intuit the profound agony reflected in those sad blue eyes. If he knew the Rumanceks in something it was in their pride, and they didn't cry without a heavy reason.

"I'm sorry, I... thought you weren't coming either", Peter stammered with his tongue a bit tied for the alcohol. When he was finally able to look at Roman his face contorted under a new wave of tears and he seeked shelter in the only place he found safe, his upir's arms.

Roman patiently waited until the storm passed, caressing Peter's tiny bony back with warm fingers, cradling his head tenderly, even humming old lullabies he believed forgotten by now. The effect was almost immediate, and the werewolf stopped trembling after a few minutes. He didn't move a single inch from his place inside those muscular arms, and truth be told, Roman felt pleased for being able to give Peter that safety.

"I take Lynda and Destiny ditched", Roman guessed after a long moment in silence.

"Not just them, everyone", replied Peter in a cracked voice. "All of our relatives were supposed to come from whatever state they were living now, pick any existing bastard of this family and end up here at the Rumancek headquarters tonight to celebrate as the big happy family we are. And you see them here? Nnnope"

Roman clutched Peter against his chest, feeling a new wave of tears coming behind that sarcastic mask the boy was desperately trying to put. He felt the first warm tears falling in the hollow of his neck barely seconds later.

"I just don't get it, Roman", the werewolf continued, "why would they leave me alone? What it's so important that keeps a mother from being with her son in Christmas? Amongst us you can be in the worst terms with a relative, in mortal danger, across the world, but this date is never forgotten, is respected.  
"So why, Roman? Why they're not here? Why they've forsaken me?"

"Well, I can't know that, but I make you sure that all those fucking bastards will burn in the deepest and filthiest of hells. Besides I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere", pointed out Roman dedicating Peter his best smile, although his heart was breaking in a million pieces seeing him so miserable. He swore breaking the skull of the first Rumancek he found, but he first had to put a smile on his beloved's face.

"I brought you something", he announced with enthusiasm. Peter's puzzled expression was all the queue he needed, he turned his back at the boy and began unpacking the boxes and the bag at the same time. Peter opened his eyes a lot as soon as he saw what Roman was trying to balance on his arms, as if... well, as if it was Christmas.

"Please tell me you didn't buy all this for me", he demanded at the sight of the shiny colorful ornaments and lights. Roman smiled guiltily.

"Sorry, I had to", he apologized without feeling a single speck of regret. "I imagined you wouldn't have anything to decorate the tree with... Wait, do you even have a tree? Gipsies have Christmas trees?"

"We do, I just... well, I never had one, actually", Peter confessed avoiding Roman's eyes. His life had never been extremely luxurious, nor were his relatives', so he had never had a white Christmas. At least until now. Roman was about to make a comment, but something caught his attention outside. His face lit up all of a sudden.

"Could you hold them a minute, please?", he asked Peter handing him the ornaments and running outside. The young werewolf freaked out when he heard a loud crack and then the unmistakeable sound of an axe chopping wood. He freaked out even more when Roman appeared covered in snow, carrying what it looked like a very big heavy object. He relaxed when he noticed that it was only a quite small pine, not taller than the upir's waist line. Although, he thought, that was actually quite a large measure for most people. He bursted into laughter when he saw his boyfriend covered with melted snow and dirt, trying to balance the pine in a corner.

"Hold on", Peter said tossing the ornaments at the couch with no manners, as he retrieved an old flowerpot from beneath the steps of the threshold. It still had some wet dirt at the bottom, it would do.

"Here", he indicated giving the pot to Roman, who was already sitting on the floor covered with the ornaments Peter had discarded, pondering the best way of hanging them on the tree. The upir looked so joyful that it was impossible not to fall for it.

"Wanna do the honors?", suggested Roman holding a shiny silver ball in front of Peter, who smiling from ear to ear he hanged it in the closest branch to his arm. The taller boy raised his smiling green eyes towards him and pulled his leg asking him to sit next to him. He gave Peter a short tender kiss and in the last moment before breaking contact a flash hit him from a side. He didn't have much time to wonder what was going on before seeing the Polaroid in Roman's left hand and the picture hanging from it. The picture was magnificent, a perfect portrait of their love. Peter found himself caressing the paper.

"Can we take more?", he asked excited.

"Anything you want, sugar", agreed Roman, and he shot a flash right at Peter's wide smile.

"Hey!", he claimed pouncing over Roman and starting a tickle war over the control of the camera.

In the hours that followed Peter experienced a happiness he had not felt in a very long time. A happiness that was far beyond his first Christmas tree perfectly decorated and covered with the pictures they had taken, beyond the exquisite food Roman had brought, beyond the stupid carols they sang together, and above all, despite the absence of his family.

It was knowing that he had beside him a man who would go to the end of the world in any moment to make him feel safe and happy every day of his life. Weather it was with a small thing like a nice morning text wishing him a good day or with something big like his first proper Christmas, Roman never stopped proving him that he would do anything in his power so he never saw a shade of sadness on Peter's face.

He couldn't ask more to life.

 

* * *

 

Peter woke up with the feeling of having bones made of sponge and a heart made of gummy bears. He had Roman's strong arms around him, giving him his own heat beneath the many blankets. He could hear and smell the snow falling outside, the perfect melody for the soft breathing of Roman on his ear. The mattress creaked when he turned around to find the upir's sleepy green eyes. There was a lazy smile on the fleshy lips.

"Morning, gorgeous", he muttered in a raspy voice, fondling the cheek of the werewolf and his lips, then his nose, his forehead, his neck, his chest, descending by his side and pulling him closer with slow and lazy movements. Peter stupidly blushed at the touch, bringing back to his memory all the ways in which Roman had made him love the past night. The upir laughed at the blush.

"Shut up", he said kissing his nose. He dared leaving the warm cave of blankets and hurried to find his frannel pants in the pile of his and Roman's clothing. He found it right before his balls froze to death and wrapped himself in a wool blanket before heading to the kitchen

The steamy chocolate was ready in no time, and Peter was pouring the hot liquid in breakfast mugs when he felt the warm presence of Roman behind him, the long lean arms surrounding his waist and the soft fleshy lips kissing his cheek softly. Without a word he gave a mug to the boy and he leaned against the solid body, giving in to the embrace and the tranquility of the moment.

"I could get used to this, you know", whispered Peter tracing Roman's long warm fingers wrapped around him with his fingertips.

"So do I", agreed the upir leaving the empty mug on the counter, "which reminds me that I forgot to give you your Christmas present last night"

"Present? Roman, you gave me enough already...", he tried to complain, but his boyfriend was already retrieving a tiny velvet bag from the inner pocket of his coat. Peter tried really hard of not thinking about what could possibly fit in a bag of that size and material.

"I know it's soon, and probably cliché after last night, but I don't care, I've wanted to ask you this since practically the day I met you and it's pointless keep waiting", said Roman, tonguetied and avoiding his boyfriend's stare, who was piercing him with his blue eyes. He emptied the content of the bag in his hand and reached it out to Peter.

On Peter's palm there was a wolf paw made of steel, which displayed the claws holding a small and exquisitely carved ruby shaped as a human heart. A ring that would perfectly fit Peter's finger. He found himself caressing it as he had done with the picture, like in a dream.

"I hope you don't mind the ruby", commented Roman taking the ring in his hands again and staring deeply at Peter's blue eyes. "I, uhm, I'm not really good with words, but you know that. I've always been a person who prefers demonstrations. And... what this ring means is that I want to wake up every morning in your arms and hug you when you're not expecting it, I want to make you laugh even when you don't know you need it and I want to wonder daily if all your little excentricities are a gipsy thing or not..."

"What I mean is", continued Roman after taking a deep breath, "that I love you more than anything in the world, Peter Rumancek, and I promise giving everything I am to make you happy, every day, every night, anytime and anywhere, if you marry me"

Peter had no idea what to say in a moment like that, for if he sometimes wasn't able to answer the simplest things, he certainly had no words for a proposal. So he turned to instinct and grabbed his beloved upir's face and kissed him like it was the first time. He laughed as he kissed him, a burst of pure and radiant happiness. He didn't realized he was crying, and Roman too, until he faced him again and his tears were shed by his boyfriend's soft thumb. Peter then extended his left hand, feeling it as the most natural thing he had ever done. The ring slid easily in his finger, as if he had born wearing it.

And in a way, it was true. Just as Roman had fell for him since the very beginning, Peter was bound to do so as well. Their fates were meant to be entwined. Every step he had given, every bad choice, every good memory, everything had lead unmistakeably to Roman and that ring in his finger. Two broken puzzle pieces that in the most unlikely place and time fit together.

"We should go back to bed", muttered Roman clutching Peter against his body. The doited werewolf was starting to tremble because of the sharp cold of the kitchen. Barely minutes later they were once again wrapped around each other under the blankets, as the peaceful quiet sound of snow outside and the warmth of their bodies tightly pressed together dragged them to sleep. Right before falling into unconsciousness, Peter turned to his fiancé and placed his left hand on his strong jaw.

"I love you", he said, and fell asleep soon after. Roman would take some more time to follow him, spellbound by his boyfriend's perfectly serene and happy face. 'Fiancé', he corrected himself with a wide smile, caressing the tiny hand on his jaw and feeling the warm ring there. The butterflies would take a long time to go away.

Screw Peter's family, he thought finally giving up to unconsciousness, not before holding his fiancé tightly. He would be his family now, and he would never ever let him down.

He would never let him go again, and wherever he might go, he would follow. But hopefully he would never feel the need to run away again.

Peter would long for nothing as long as he was safe in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing about these two!  
> According to my research, Romanical Gipsies do this thing in which on Dec 23rd they start a procession that starts somewhere in a house of a relative of them and they go picking up the other members of the clan as the day goes by in order to arrive to the head of the clan's house at night for the proper celebration. That's why Peter took it so personal, nobody picked him up but nobody showed up for the big party either :(  
> I hope you like this, I might add some more bits about this verse later!


End file.
